Nightingale's POV
There are still embers left on the dying bonfire, maybe I could practice on them. I remember one of the stories my mother told me before about the fire elements, they can make a dead remains of fire burn bright again. If I can make this soar up as high as how it tries to reaches the sky earlier.
I stood up from my seat and faced the dying embers on the broken chunks of coals that were once large branches. I slowed down my breathing and emptied my thoughts. Focus on a single spot of a dying ember, your goal is to make it burn like a wild fire and fill the dark abyss.
Now, start with a gentle wind that will keep the ember burning still until a bright red colour comes up. Keep the wind speed ascend, faster and faster. Small flames are coming up.
Memories came running into my mind as I keep my dance in quick successions of movements, elegant and fierce at the same time. Back when I was still inside my mother's womb, she's been singing the Song of the Stars to me with my father singing along with her. Their melody is so beautiful and the song is filled with... love and... and hope.
At the age of three, I started reading books in our wide library. But I didn't touch the children books, instead I'm reading the books about our history, and my mother found it strange. My father was about to talk when I started singing the Song of the Stars. They both looked surprised as they stare at each other. "None of us taught her that" the little me heard them say that caught her attention. The young me ran towards them and started talking about how great, kind, and intelligent our ancestors are.
I always carried that book around until I was able to finish it. I always bugged my parents around asking a lot of whys after whys. They finally seemed relieved when I put the book back but it was gone as soon as it came when I took the book next to it. But that book was no longer a happy one. That was the book when the Elysian came. I asked fewer questions to my parents and just went on reading eager to find out what our ancestors did. The moment I read the last phrase, I cried, loud enough that made my parents come running into the library.
"Why? What's wrong sweetheart?" my mother asked as she takes me into her arms and sit on the cushion where I was sitting on to. I can't answer her and just pointed the book. It just feels too painful. My father looked into the book opened at the last page, he immediately frowned.
"What is it dear?" my mother asked then my father heaved a sigh.
"No wonder she cried. She took this to heart" my father said and showed the last page of the book at the last line.
The Paladins never did rise again, it says.
"I see" my mother said and stared at me with a smile. The young me wondered why and stared at her curiously.
"That's not the end of the story my sweet youngling. Will you get the next book for us dear?" my mother asked father and he went to get another book from the shelf and returned the one that I just finished.
"Here you go" my father said and opened the book to the first page. The young me smiled widely after reading the first words.
The descendants of the Paladins did give up, no, they fought back. It says.
"Dying doesn't always mean it's over Nightingale, sometimes, it ignites hope in our hearts and we continue what they had started, to seek for the light in the midst of darkness. That's why our family belongs to the first house, to lead and give light to those who's yet to find theirs" my father told me.
"Is that why we can wield fire?" I asked then I produced a fire from my index finger like it's sitting on top of a candle. They both were caught by surprise but it was then followed by delighted faces.
